Lucas wiped a drop of sweat that had gathered on his lip and glanced at Isabelle. The girl shrugged at him, and he turned back to the man.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  While the man’s upcoming question probably wouldn’t be problematic, Lucas got the distinct feeling that it was going to be something that he couldn’t help with. The man continued wringing his hands together, glass crunching under him as he shifted his weight.

  “You wouldn’t perhaps have some bandages or maybe some wraps, you know, something to stop a wound?” he asked with a sheepish grin.

  That was a surprise. The request could have been a lot worse. Lucas looked him over.

  There were no major cuts on him. No blood. Was he the one who needed it? As if sensing the question, the man raised his hand and shook his head. He shifted and pointed across the road. Lucas stepped forward to see what he was pointing at.

  “My son. He’s got a nasty scratch. I’ve asked around, but no one else really has anything apart from some tiny bandages. Good in a pinch, but I think he’s going to need stitches. I want to take him to the hospital, but with the roads being the way they are,” he gestured towards the trees and shook his head. “I’m not sure how we’re going to get there unless it’s on foot.”

  “I see.” Lucas nodded, but then a thought in the back of his mind gnawed at him. If this were not a temporary thing and the government weren’t coming back, could he afford to give away medical supplies?

  It’s not that he didn’t have any. His mum, being a carer, kept a bunch on hand at all times. Apparently, the old folks she looked after could sometimes hurt themselves in various ways, and it was good to be prepared.

  Lucas brought a hand to his chin, breathed, and then nodded. “I think I might have something,” he said.

  A look of relief washed over the man’s face, and he let out a sigh. “Thank you,” he said, straightening a little. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

  “Never mind it,” Lucas said, turning and making his way out of the room.

  He climbed upstairs and made his way to the bathroom. Once there, he ducked his head into the cupboard where they kept all their medical supplies and the like. After a few minutes of shuffling around, he pulled out a large green box and flipped it open.

  Bandages, plasters, alcohol to clean wounds—the works. His mum kept a good supply, though the thought from earlier still ate at his mind. Lucas sighed. He could help the man, but he wouldn’t be giving away everything. The man had said he needed bandages. He’d probably also do well to have some alcohol, at least to get the wound disinfected.

  Plucking a handful of cotton and some adhesive tape, as well as a bandage, he rested them on the bathroom countertop. He then removed one of the small bottles of alcohol before slipping the box back under the bathroom cabinet and collecting the supplies in his arms.

  “Lucas, what are you doing?” his mum called from her room.

  “Someone’s hurt, Mum, real bad,” he replied, stepping up and out of the bathroom. “I’m just giving them something to stop the bleeding and clean the wounds. It’s all right,” he said.

  He could have said nothing, but his mum was a kind person, and surely her hearing about someone being hurt might coax her into leaving the room.

  He needed her to come out to see the situation for what it was and for them to begin planning for the future if this was indeed going to be serious, though that would have to wait until the neighbours stopped coming to their now open window. Couldn’t have everyone spooked, and rushing around for resources Lucas and his family might need.

  Stairs creaking, Lucas made his way back downstairs with the supplies in hand. He stepped back into the front room. As soon as the man’s eyes landed on him, they widened, his face lighting up with clear relief. Lucas stepped over to the window and placed the items into the man’s arms, then nodded.

  “I think this will help,” Lucas said.

  “Thank you,” the man said, lips trembling. “I wasn’t sure if we’d ever get help. I can’t even get in touch with an ambulance, not that they’d even make it this far. So yeah, on foot to the hospital.” He nodded. “Thanks again, by the way.”

  Lucas rested a hand on his hip and shook his head. “Think nothing of it.”

  As the man went to turn, Lucas’s mother’s voice halted him. “Excuse me, sir.”

  The man turned back around and cocked his head to the side. “Yes, is something wrong?”

  “It’s nothing. I just wanted to get a look at exactly what you took. You might need something else later. I don’t want you to have to rush back here and possibly make the situation worse by leaving a wound untended.”

  The man nodded as Lucas’s mother, hair tied up into a messy bun, stepped over. Nightgown swaying at her feet in the light breeze, she gave the man a once-over and peeked out the window to where his son rested in the arms of a woman who was no doubt his partner. She nodded.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “If it’s just a leg wound, that should be fine to stop the bleeding until you get to the hospital. If you need anything else, just let me know,” his mother said with a smile. The neighbour smiled back, clearly taking it well.

  But that smile from his mother was not one that Lucas was happy to see. It promised anger as soon as the man was out of earshot. And so, as the gentleman crunched across the glass, stepped over the grass and creaked their front gate open, Lucas’s mother turned and grabbed him by the arm, leading him into the hallway. It was a firm grip, but not enough to actually cause any pain.

  Stepping out into the hallway, his mother hissed, “What were you thinking?”

  “He needed help,” Lucas replied. “His son got injured.”

  “Yes, but we don’t go giving out things to absolute strangers.”

  “He’s not a stranger, Mum. He’s our neighbour.”

  She crossed her arms and stepped back, mouth falling open as if shocked. “Neighbour? Have you said two words to him? Because I sure as hell haven’t.”

  “Mum, it’s fine. He just needs the supplies until we can get his son to the hospital. It’s not like he was demanding we hand over everything.”

  She nodded, letting out grunts of agreement that were not her agreeing at all, but more so grunts asking if he was stupid. It was a common staple for her.

  “So you give away our supplies, and you bring home random strangers that, unlike our so-called neighbour, don’t even live on the same street as us.”

  “How do you know she doesn’t?”

  “Suitcase in hand, a little girl with her. Lucas, who is the child you brought home?”

  “Mum, she needed help. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

  “You couldn’t?” She paused as if considering her next words. “The world is going to...” She paused again. “Everything’s crumbling, and we only have us,” she said, raising a hand and resting it on his shoulder. “We can’t take any more burdens. You have your brother to care for, and I have to care for both of you. What were you thinking? What if this isn’t just a temporary situation?”

  Her voice shrank, and she stepped closer. “Lucas, what if everything we know is gone, and we have to survive? I’ve seen it on the internet. I’ve seen videos.”

  She was talking about the preppers, the YouTube channels she’d watched. The woman had been obsessed with them for the last few months. In a way, it was kind of ironic now.

  He raised a hand and rested it on her shoulder. “Mum, it’s okay. I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks. Sure, some trees have sprouted, and buildings have seemingly come from nowhere, but I think everything will be okay.”

  That was a lie. Though whether he was lying to her or to himself, he couldn’t quite say. “We should get back to normal soon—at least a new normal. That might not be today or tomorrow, or even three days from now. But I think we will go back to normal, and the government—”

  She raised a finger and brought it to his lips, tapping them. “I don’t want to hear any more of your stupid suggestions, Lucas. Just listen to me. I know what I’m talking about.”

  Part of him wanted to agree, to let his mother guide his next few actions. After all, it was the only thing that made sense right now, and at the very least, society was not going back to normal within the next few hours.

  Maybe her prepping videos would be right. But then, there was also this system. She’d curiously not mentioned it at all, and it was the thing they should plan around.

  He stepped away. “Mum, could you just watch Sasha for a minute?”

  “Who?” she asked, briefly confused before frowning. “Lucas, aren’t you hearing what I’m saying?” she demanded as Lucas walked into the front room and signalled to Isabelle.

  “Can we talk?” he asked. Lucas then signalled for the dog to stay as it had gotten up upon seeing him enter.

  The girl stepped over, waving shyly at his mother and dropping her head.

  “Lucas, what are you doing? We need to get our things in order now.” His mum didn’t even acknowledge Isabelle. Instead, she continued to berate him.

  Lucas shook his head and stepped back, his back bumping the living room door. He then poked his head around it. “Sasha, this is my mum,” he said, gesturing to the fuming woman. “She’s very skilled with crayons. You should ask her about it.”

  “She is?” Sasha’s eyes brightened, a smile coming to her cheeks as she hopped off the couch. “I love crayons. I actually enjoy painting ducks myself.”

  Lucas chuckled and stepped away, Isabelle following behind him.

  “Lucas!” his mum cried.

  As he walked into the hallway, he spotted his brother at the top of the stairs, waving at him.

  Slowly, Lucas brought a finger to his lips and shooed his brother back. It was best he stay in the room. Lucas didn’t want to get shouted at by his mother for the boy leaving her room. Which would no doubt fall on Lucas for even causing the entire situation as it is.

  “You wanted to talk,” Isabelle said as they moved through the hallway, his mother’s voice fading to the background as Sasha began talking to her.

  “Yeah,” he said, stepping to the garden door, twisting the key with a click and pushing it open, the plastic insulation peeling as he did.

  A gust of cool air washed over him, mixed with the smell of fresh grass, and he stepped onto the stone patio. As Isabelle stepped out, he closed the door behind her and signalled to one of the many garden chairs around the outside dining table.

  Lucas stopped and scanned the slight cracks in the wooden gazebo his father had erected many years ago. But in the end, he shook his head and turned to his favourite spot. At the side was a beanbag chair built specifically for gardens.

  It cost his mother a pretty penny when she bought it, but she liked to relax on Friday afternoons with a glass of wine, so it ended up becoming a worthy purchase. For her at least, and for him after too many nights coming home drunk and just staring at the sky.

  Slumping down into it with a rush of cool air, he sighed.

  “I don’t know how much you’ve interacted with the system so far,” Lucas began.

  Isabelle, who’d taken a seat, turned her gaze from him and surveyed the garden. “Not much,” she said, eyes lingering on something in the distance. It was probably one of the many wind chimes that hung on the back fence near the shed.

  “Well, have you at least gone into that space?”

  “Space?” she said, turning to him and cocking her head to the side.

  “Yeah, it’s got, you know, the black steps you have to climb and the completely white expanse.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Yeah, I have. It was quite a walk,” she said, scratching her cheek as if she didn’t really know how to continue.

  Lucas nodded. “So you know that’s how we get stronger, right?”

  “I guess,” she said, leaning back in the chair, her gaze drifting to her hands resting in her lap as she fiddled with her fingers. Her thoughts clearly weren’t in this moment, probably weren’t even with him. She was talking just to talk.

  No direction, no purpose.

  Lucas didn’t mind that. She’d hopefully remember this conversation, or at least see where he was going. Getting stronger was a priority right now. It would allow him to protect himself and his family. Even in her grief, maybe she'd see that he was onto something.